Pet Zombie: Collab'oween Day 7
GN!Reader (you/your) x GN!Zombie (they/them)
Warnings: noncon; manipulation; undead; mild overstim; reader is keeping a zombie as a pet so
Words: 838
The scream is guttural, inhuman, and exactly what you wanted to hear as your darling pet thrashes against the bindings you’d secured them in.
“There’s no use struggling, you know.”
They don’t answer. You’re not sure they could answer. Once upon a time they’d spoken, mishmashed words. Mostly cursing you, threatening to rip your throat and rend you limb from limb. Not so much anymore. The last few weeks had only been growls and groans.
Until now.
They lunge forward again, bindings creaking as they try in vain to free themselves, to reach the meat you had placed just out of their reach. Another blood curdling screech rips from their throat, and you laugh.
“Becoming a zombie hasn’t much helped your intelligence, huh?”
Their eyes find yours, wild and unfocused.
“Poor dear,” you coo, mocking clear as day even to the undead. Reaching out, you cup their face, thumb caressing their cheekbone. Carefully, you slip a digit under the strap of leather securing their muzzle in place, flexing your finger to give it a quick test of strength. It’s the only thing they’re really wearing. What use did a zombie have for clothes? “Poor silly fool,” you coo again, smiling as they growl. If they were more docile, you might have slipped the muzzle from their face, tucked your thumb into the gash ripping open their jaw. Of course, they weren’t.
Their eyes seem to grow clearer and you grin wide. “Oh, are you here? Can you see me again?”
They jerk towards you, teeth snapping as they try to bite you even muzzled. You move back, laughter bouncing around the small room you designed just for these little play sessions with your pet.
The snap of breaking cord rings in your ears, the sound not processing for a moment. Long enough for your darling pet to dash forward, slamming against you with their full force. You let out a soft ooph as the wind is knocked out of you, falling back as your pet clambers on top of you while you remain dazed and disoriented.
Panic swells inside you as they thrash, teeth snapping as they try to rip into your flesh. The cold bars of their muzzle presses painfully into your neck, but it does its job. You’re kept safe from the infected teeth.
Their arms are still pinned back, too. You’re in the clear, it seems. The only thing that had failed you was the cord that allowed them some free movement in the cell. Your main problem was that every time you tried to subdue them, they’d struggle harder, becoming more frantic, thrashing and growling as they attempted to maim you. In their struggles, part of their bindings get caught on your clothes, your trousers, ripping them and exposing more of your skin to the hungry ghoul.
Your composure breaks, and you start writhing under them, matching them in their feral movements as you try to get them off you. It makes things worse. Their head knocks into your chin, teeth cracking and head bouncing off the floor. Ears ringing, white light skitters across your vision, and you go limp under them.
Your thoughts are still muddled when your misbehaving pet ends up slotted between your thighs, hips pressed together in their continuous attempt to harm you. Maybe they felt pleasure, some new hunger awakening in them as they ground their bare crotch against yours. Or maybe there was more gray matter in that rotting skull than you thought and this is how they decided to get some semblance of revenge
Either way, they groan above you, the sound different than before. They move again, this time more deliberate in their actions. Unwanted heat rises in you as they rock against you. Reaching out, you try pushing them off. You can’t, head pounding as you try to shove them.
They growl low, a threat, as they lay over you, resting their full weight against you ast they start rutting against you in earnest.
“Foul,” you mutter under your breath, words loose in your mouth as your ears continue to ring. It is foul, not just that it was an undead humping you, but it was your pet. Moreover, your body was reacting. It was humiliating.
You let your eyes shut, resting your aching head back against the floor. Your pet makes a sound you’ve never heard from them before, something like a purr as you resign yourself to letting your body get used like this in the hopes you’d be able to regain the upper hand. It takes more effort than you’d ever admit to crack an eye open, sneering at them. “Don’t get too cocky.”
If they give no indication if they understand you, still rutting against you.
You’re not sure how long it is before you shudder under them, face hot as you cum.
Unfortunately, your pet doesn’t seem anywhere near close to their end. You feel too sensitive, nerves raw as they keep grinding, and you’re in for a long night.
18 notes
·
View notes